


Chance Encounters

by generalwastedisposal



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: College AU, F/F, Fluff, eliza plays the piano, fluffy fluff, little slices of life, maria's a dancer, they're both arts majors, wow i wrote something that's not angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 14:34:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9611723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/generalwastedisposal/pseuds/generalwastedisposal
Summary: Maria pauses for a second, glances at Eliza, then cracks a smile. Eliza doesn’t have time to smile back before the girl is off again, leaping and twirling in perpetual motion. Eliza doesn’t know much about ballet, but she thinks she could stand here forever and maybe she’d figure it out.aka the college arts student au that wouldn't leave me alone





	

   The first time Eliza sees Maria, she’s whirling her way across a dance studio. Eliza’s just walking by, trying to get to music theory, but something stops her just in front of the window.

   That something is Maria; she’s wearing a green leotard and pink tights and has her dark hair pulled up into a bun that looks like a cinnamon roll, but each time she whips around another piece of hair escapes its bobby-pinned prison. Eliza knows this is creepy, knows she’s going to be late, but she can’t stop staring, transfixed by the girl in the center of the room. The teacher yells something Eliza can’t hear through the door, and the dancers scurry to the corner of the room, conveniently passing by the window through which Eliza is peering. They ignore her for the most part, or shoot her a side eye she’s found dancers are particularly good at. Maria doesn’t do either of these things. She pauses for a second, glances at Eliza, then cracks a smile. Eliza barely registers it and doesn’t have time to smile back before the girl is off again, leaping and twirling in perpetual motion. Eliza doesn’t know much about ballet, but she thinks she could stand here forever and maybe she’d figure it out.

   Eliza’s newfound passion for dance is interrupted by Hercules flicking her on the back of the head. Eliza recoils instantly, annoyed. She’s always surprised by the delicacy and gentleness with which Hercules plays his cello, given that his hands are usually dedicated to making her life difficult.

  “Eliza. They’re half-naked. It’s hot, I get it.” Eliza tries to explain that it’s not the class, it’s just this one girl.

   “You know what else is hot? Seventh chords. Which you’re gonna miss.” Eliza sighs, hating that Hercules is right. She follows him down the hallway, resisting the urge to take one last glance at the girl in the green leotard.

~

   The second time Maria sees Eliza, it’s in the dining hall. Maria nearly drops her stir-fry, not because she recognizes Eliza, because truthfully she doesn’t. It’s because Eliza, composing a sonata in her head, walks directly into Maria. Eliza grabs the tray right before it teeters over, handing it back to its stunned owner.

  “Shit. Are you okay?” Maria can tell this was Eliza’s fault, but something about the way her dark hair is falling across her shoulders like a curtain has temporarily paralyzed Maria’s sense of judgement. Eliza straightens up, flushed and apologetic. There’s a moment where Maria sees something in the other girl’s eyes, recognition maybe? But then the busy dining hall resumes its bustling chatter and movement and the two girls are swept away, back to their separate lives.

~

   The third time, neither of them see each other, and that’s the whole problem because Maria grabs a yoga mat off the top shelf at the gym, causing the two underneath it to tumble and land on the unsuspecting person behind her with a soft thud. Maria’s grabbing the mats in a second, going to put them away when she sees the girl from the stir fry incident on Monday. There’s a quick moment of recognition between the two before Eliza takes the hand Maria’s offered her and stands.

  “Payback, I’m assuming?”

   “All a part of my master plan.” Maria thinks that’ll be the end of it, but Eliza grabs one of the offending mats, because of course they’re taking the same yoga class.

  Eliza realizes this as well as she grabs her mat, and is very aware that this girl, whose name she still doesn’t know, could potentially make it very difficult to concentrate in yoga class.

   As it turns out, she’s right, but it’s not for the reason she thinks. The dancer puts her mat down right next to Eliza’s, and spends the whole class running a quiet commentary about the uncanny resemblance of their teacher, George, to a certain revolutionary war general.

   Class ends, and they’re putting up their mats when Eliza finally decides that enough is enough. She sticks out her hand, cringing at the overt formality of it all.

  “Eliza. Music major, I play piano.” Maria, to her credit, doesn’t laugh at the method of introduction, but takes the offered hand.

  “Maria. I’m a dance major.” Eliza resists the urge to say “Yeah, I know. I saw you dancing,” because there’s a pretty girl talking to her and it’d be really great if she didn’t fuck this up.

~

   The sixth time Eliza sees Maria, it’s on their second date, and Eliza’s still as moonstruck as she was the first time their eyes locked. Maria rushes into the restaurant 10 minutes late, apologizing a mile a minute about rehearsal going way over. Eliza doesn’t respond right away, because she’s staring at the way Maria’s hair, still damp from the shower, is clinging to her neck. Eliza wants nothing more than to brush it away and kiss her while she’s at it, but it’s only their second date and Eliza really needs to get a hold of herself.

   Food comes, but Maria barely notices what she’s eating over the sound of Eliza’s laugh, careless and melodic and often. Eliza tells Maria that her real name is Elizabeth, but that she’s

   “-willing to murder anyone who calls me that.” As Eliza says this though, she thinks that she really wouldn’t mind hearing it come out of Maria’s mouth.

   There’s the customary amount of fumbling about with the check, which Eliza finally wins, though Maria insists she gets to pay for dessert.

   She takes them to a little ice cream place off the main drag, and Eliza orders a root beer float with chocolate ice cream, to Maria’s chagrin.

    “You’re undermining the whole institution of root beer floats.” Eliza is inclined to argue, but the way Maria’s eyes are shining makes her think that she’d probably agree with anything the brunette said right now.

   Maria orders a sundae with vanilla ice cream, and Eliza laughs and calls her boring, though she’s thinking to herself that there’s no worse word to describe Maria.

   They sit in comfortable silence for a while, and then, in a tribute to how closely they’ve bonded, have the same idea at the same time.

   The two girls lean in, and bump noses initially. They giggle a little and get it figured out the second time around. The kiss is all blurred edges and smiles, bumping teeth. Eliza thinks that Maria tastes like hot fudge and Maria thinks that she could probably stay like this forever, with Eliza’s fingers tangled in her hair.

~

  After a while, Eliza stops keeping track of how many times she’s seen Maria because it increases until it’s almost every day. They find empty studios and Eliza plays while Maria just moves through the space, and little by little they find themselves creating something. Something that’s new and a little scary, that neither of them have seen before.

   They figure it out though, one chord and one step at a time. It’s all handholding in the hallways and stolen kisses by the water fountains. They don’t talk about it a lot, because they don’t have to. Maria can say more with her body then she’d ever be able to with her voice, and she dances every “I’m so happy I’ve found you.”

   Eliza isn’t very good with her words either, but she writes Maria music full of all the things she doesn’t think words can capture.

   They’re an odd couple by any means: tall and short, light and dark, dancer and musician. But they’re both artists, and when the muse moves them one day they turn to each other at the same time, beaming.

   “I love you.”


End file.
